Fire & Gasoline
by sherlockedbyben
Summary: Mycroft Holmes has an insufferable power complex. Clara Oswald is an egomaniac control freak. That's all there is to it, really.


**Hey, thanks for clicking on my story! I was inspired to write for this pairing because of some of british-bossy's work, so I decided to give it a go and see what happens, hope you enjoy it!**

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This was weird, even by her standards.

Clara Oswald found herself sitting in the back of what she assumed to be a car, without the use of her sight and her hands.

The only piece of evidence that her perplexed mind could conjure up to solidify the assumption that this was some sort of moving vehicle was the gentle thrum of the engine and the fresh, intoxicating odour that only an expensive car can emanate, not to mention the odd jolt as they drove over a bump in the road. And she was fairly certain that whoever's shoulder she kept careering into whenever the car rounded a sharp bend was getting tired of her invading his personal space.

"Where are we going?"

It wasn't the first time she had asked that question since she had come round, and it certainly wouldn't be the last as, like before, she was offered no form of an answer.

The last thing Clara remembered was strolling down a bustling street in London. Her moped was in the garage being repaired and the Tardis wasn't exactly at her beck and call, so she had elected to walk home after the school day ended. With her mind ensnared in snippets of the Jane Austen novel they had been discussing earlier that day, she jumped when she heard her name being called, snapping her out of her thoughts.

" _Clara Oswald?"_

She had turned round, of course she had. It was a perfectly normal, human response. And it was also a huge mistake.

She had wheeled around to face the unfamiliar man who had spoken, and barely had time to frown in suspicion at his neat suit and polished appearance before she everything began to happen in quick succession. The man's blank expression remained fixed and before a word of confirmation could bubble past her lips, Clara was grabbed from behind and a rag was pressed to her face by a strong, gloved hand. _Chlorofoam._ The word registered in her mind as she struggled until darkness enveloped her in its iron grasp.

So now she was here. Blindfolded, hands tied in front of her with what she guessed to be a piece of zip-tie, and wondering where the hell she was going and why _her_ of all people. She had an ominous feeling that she was about to find out.

The car came to a smooth halt and the blindfold was carefully taken off her eyes. She blinded at the sudden brightness, allowing her eyes to adjust to their ability to see being restored as the cable-tie was cut.

"Terribly sorry about the inconvenience, Miss Oswald," The dark haired young man who spoke was unfamiliar to her, and she assumed he was the one who had jumped her from behind. The driver, however, now that she looked, she recognised to be the same man who had called her name in the street.

"There's a delicate matter that needs to be discussed urgently," The man continued, opening her door for her and helping her out of the car. "No one could know you were coming here."

"Including me, right?" Clara quipped back dryly, smoothing her skirt and fixing her hair. "Next time just ask me nicely if I want a lift, yeah?"

The man smiled wanly and gestured for her to follow him while the other man took up the rear without a word. They were walking across a vast expanse of concrete, almost like an airfield, though Clara could confirm with her newly readjusted eyes that there wasn't an aircraft in sight.

The main aspect of this uncomfortably formal and awkward march that caught Clara's attention though, was the large, looming building in front of them which they were steadily approaching. A bit like a glorified warehouse, there wasn't a window in sight and the three spaced out entrances that Clara could see were manned by armed guards. She frowned, the whole thing reminded her of UNIT. Did this possibly have something to do with the Doctor?

She was issued with a few strange looks as she was escorted through the large double doors in the front of the building, not that she could blame them. She was one more unexpected kidnapping away from giving _herself_ strange looks.

She didn't get the chance to appreciate the interior of the large room she had just stumbled upon as she was immediately led down a narrow corridor with one lone door at the very end of it. Her entourage stopped a few metres from the door.

"This is as far as we're authorised to go," One of her abductors grunted. He motioned towards the door. "He'll see you now."

 _Who_? She wanted to asked, but knew better than to waste her breath. Squaring her shoulders, she strode down the hallway, an expression of steely determination fixed on her face. She could feel the men's eyes on her back as she reached out to turn the handle, grimacing when she realised her hands were shaking slightly. It was irrational to be nervous. She was obviously here for a reason, she was hardly in any danger.

She pushed her qualms to the back of her mind and opened the door, taking a bold step inside the room.

"Ah, at last. I was beginning to think you'd gotten yourself lost."

Clara started at the sound of the cool, smug voice, her eyes snapping up to fix on the man who had spoken as she froze. He had his back to her, his tall, lean frame hunched over a desk as he shuffled a stack of papers together. Clara cleared her throat after a moment of heavy silence.

"Bit hard to do, considering I got an escort."

"Yes, that's right, now please close the door, would you?" The man's even tone was tinged by a hint of impatience as Clara quickly regained her composure and closed the door with a snap louder than she had intended, leaning against the wood for a moment. The man's tone was almost condescending, with a lofty lilt to his voice that made Clara feel as if she was in the presence of someone who had much more important things to do.

"I hope your trip wasn't too unbearable," The man finally turned around to face her with a forced smile of feigned compassion which almost seemed to pain him to hold in place for her sake. "It's standard procedure I'm afraid. I'm sure you understand."

His tone was airy and light, though there appeared to be a hint of a threatening undertone embedded in the context. Clara wasn't sure what to make of him. Tall, thin, cropped brown hair and a meticulously neat tailor-made suit teamed with the haughty expression of someone superior all led Clara to believe that this man was someone important. Intimidating, yes. Intriguing, even more so.

"It was terrible, thanks," She replied when she managed to recover her voice. "I hope you weren't waiting too long. I'm sure I would've got here faster if I'd taken my moped."

"The wait was tediously boring," The man replied lightly, his supercilious expression remaining unreadable as he leaned back against the desk, hands clasped in front of him. "Not that I can complain, I had a stack of paperwork to get through anyway. And I think we both know, Clara, that you couldn't possibly have taken your moped considering it's currently got a damaged spark plug and a worn ignition point."

Clara's hands broke out in a cold sweat.

"How did you-"

"A story for another time, Miss Oswald," The man smiled wryly, dismissing her outburst with a flippant wave of his hand. He motioned towards a chair politely. "Now would you care to sit down?"

"Who are you?" Clara demanded, folding her arms protectively and ignoring his offer. She was distrusting this man more and more by the minute. He wasn't just important, he was dangerous, she could tell. The sort of person who could order something to happen with the click of his fingers, and who wouldn't allow emotions to cloud his judgement. The man's face became guarded, and something shifted in his expression. He hesitated before answering.

"I occupy a minor position in the government," He relented finally, his piercing eyes boring into Clara's and rendering her unable to look away. She raised an eyebrow daringly.

"I asked who you are, not what you do," She chanced, taking a tentative step forward. She didn't trust this man, not one bit, but she couldn't help but be intrigued by him. "You clearly know all about me, I think I'm owed something in return."

"I should've known you'd be difficult," The man sighed exasperatedly, pinching the bridge of his nose with his eyes shut as Clara let out a strangled noise of indignation.

"Mycroft Holmes," He stated coldly before Clara could offer a retort. "That is my name, now would you _please_ sit down, Miss Oswald?"

Clara blinked before nodding quietly and manoeuvring herself over to the plush armchair in the corner of the room which Mycroft gestured to less than invitingly. The disdainful expression on his face led Clara to believe that she was not exactly the highlight of his day.

"I trust you don't know why you're here," Mycroft sat down in the chair opposite, crossing his legs languidly and leaning back almost regally.

"I trust you're going to tell me," Clara realised she was fiddling with her sleeve in an effort to dissipate some of her anxiousness and stopped herself abruptly. Mycroft had noticed too. She could tell by the barely noticeable pretentious smirk on his face. He had the upper hand, and he relished it.

"I do apologise again about the nature of your arrival. I'm afraid it was necessary."

He didn't sound sorry.

"Well," Clara paused, still struggling to wrap her head around the entire situation that she had stumbled into. "I appreciate the car and everything, but to be honest, Mr Holmes, I think you've moved beyond common courtesy to something a bit more sinister."

"All for a good cause, I assure you," Mycroft forced a smile onto his face, linking his fingers together loosely.

"Still could've done with a bit of warning though," Clara fumbled with the hem of her skirt and cast her eyes down. She didn't want to admit that she felt intimidate by this man, but she felt a small spark of fear ignite itself in her stomach regardless. "This isn't exactly the right attire for a meeting with someone out of a James Bond movie."

Mycroft scoffed at her comment, looking on the verge of rolling his eyes.

"Nonsense, you look like little birds helped you get dressed this morning," He reached out for a glass, swirling the amber liquid almost absentmindedly. Clara shrugged.

"Just saying, I think you have _severe_ tunnel vision when it comes to getting what you want."

"Acute observation, Miss Oswald, but we're not here to talk about me," Mycroft raised an eyebrow and placed his glass back on the table, leaving the drink untouched. He leaned forward as he spoke, steepling his fingers under his chin.

"What are we here to talk about then?" Clara's heart began to beat rapidly, unsure if she wanted to know the answer at this point.

"Oh I think you know," Mycroft tilted his head to the side with a knowing smile. "Go on. Do I need to give you three guesses?"

Clara felt her stomach plummet. There was only one thing he could mean.

"We're here to talk about the Doctor, aren't we?"

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 **So that was the first chapter of hopefully a lengthy story, I hope it was okay! What did you think of the first meeting between Clara and Mycroft? I hope it was in character, it's something I think would be really interesting to watch!**

 **Anyway, if you think I should continue this, leave a review and let me know** **Thanks cuties!**


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